Here They Roam
by PunyMusketeer
Summary: America is in hospital, other countries are disappearing and alternate figures smiles watch from the shadows. The 2p's are coming...but how did they appear?
1. Meeting

How much more ironic could this get? It was like CSI Miami, except it wasn't really in Miami but New York. Either way it didn't matter, but to America he was in quite the predicament of a lifetime. He wasn't scared. No, no. The hero was never terrified of his foes, he never ran from the possibility of being killed on the battle field. They stood up against the villains and faced them off in an epic showdown of strength and determination to reach their goals. Heroes were the ones who saved the day and got the girl all at the same time…

Such _lies_ those were in his mind filled with racing thoughts.

As if it were inevitable, the country reached the end of an alley he had mistakenly run into, cussing under his heavy breaths and trying to scamper up the tall brick wall to evade his pursuer. Heroes didn't run…

This day there was no hero.

"Come on yer fuckin' pathetic." A familiar voice emitted not far behind him. The mere tone shook the country and froze his panicking figure, sky blue orbs widening as footsteps became louder with the figure nearing his target. Dark shades stood on the bridge of tanned male's nose, a smug expression planted almost naturally on his face.

"H-Ha…I don't know what you're talking about dude." America turned around and kept his back against the brick wall behind him, hands visibly trembling in the presence of…himself.

With the rapid swing of a bat, nailed embedded in the hard wood skewered the wall beside him, dragging it across like a knife through butter. Red eyes met blue, and soon the gap between them was nothing more than a few mere inches.

"Hey…w-what do you say to becoming buds? I can totally show you around- uh…you know… show you the great sights of my country!" he cheered, doing his best to keep on that usual composure he held, but it crumbled away when this other America tilted his head, bat suddenly pressed up against his stomach. With a harsh wince of pain, he grit his teeth and looked him in the eyes, noticing how intense with…thirst they were. They wanted to see blood in front of them, splattered on walls surrounding the red eyed male.

"Nah…not my cup of tea, sweetcheeks," He murmured, feeling a sudden tightening grip on his arm, noticing the strength of the cornered nation.

"Dude…I'm not asking twice." He replied.

However America didn't manage to get the response he had been waiting for. Instead the predator's grin widened, the image of a missing tooth revealing itself as the pinned baseball bat inched away from his stomach, but found itself plunging into the intestines of him. He gasped, lurching forward and splat out blood when it came up his throat suddenly, eyes blurring in a momentary loss of composure. He felt them penetrate his skin, the muscles, the tissue, the organs… it all went by so quick, and he found himself on the ground, bleeding excessively as the man chuckled. That chuckle slowly turned into a sadistic cackle, boots kicking at the ground before the bat was swung into his side, earning a loud yelp and groan afterwards.

"Alfred." The man spoke calmly then. "Name's Alfred… and I'm yer opposite bitch. An' I gotta say…I was expectin' more outta ya, 'Merica."

Alfred swung his bat upwards, placing it on his own shoulder with ease before turning around and starting to leave. "My job is done… " he muttered, clicking his teeth as he relaxed his body, unaffected by the fact America was on the ground, bleeding to death from his newly gained wounds. He wasn't going down though, at least not yet. The blonde pulled out a pistol, narrowing his eyes and locking onto the back of Alfred as best he could with his blurring vision, clicking the gun and pulling the trigger.

In a matter of seconds, he hit the opposite in the back, his eyes widening as he grunted and fell forward to the ground, shortly falling unconscious from the impact to his spine. The gunshot echoed through the alley, with no one coming to their aid, all America could do was watch the second player fall to the ground, limp. Then he followed suite, a black void clouding him.

What was going on?

Who was that man?

He called himself Alfred, but he seemed like an exact close of America…

Simply different in colours and clothes together.

Where did he even come from?


	2. Pranks

"Oh poppet… you really should watch your back."

"Mmn.." The brunette shifted on the metal bench, crimson orbs opening to the close sight of baby blue and specs of pink, a wide if not sadistic smile following it.

"Get outta my face Arthur." He hissed lazily, pushing the Englishman's face away as he stumbled and blinked, a short giggle escaping his lips when he came back over and slapped the American over the head almost playfully, waving his finger about in refusal.

"Take care not to move, love. Your spines been fractured from that ghastly bullet!" He cheered enthusiastically, leaving the other unsure whether or not he was worried or simply excited he could do what he wanted, and Alfred had no control over him. He growled, laying his head back down on the bench beneath him and shifting uncomfortably. The dried crusting blood on his back felt odd, but not so new to him.

A minute of silence between them left the shorter man bored, as he rolled up his baby pink sleeves to his elbows, walking over to the American second player's favourite weapon, the spiked baseball bat.

"Alfie dear this looks quite worn. No wonder you weren't able to kill America! Perhaps a change in taste would benef-"

"Fuck no. Don't call me 'Alfie' or I'll kick yer ass. That bat is m' treasure so get your cupcake making hands off 'em." He hissed, wiggling around and moving to his side, a glare directed into the baker's own eyes.

He squeaked and placed it down, skipping to the door leading from his basement to his living room. But he stopped, turning around and putting a finger to his own lips, as if to quiet him when he made no sound in the first place. "Be a good poppet and stay here until you've recovered. I'm going to visit England~!" He hummed, taking a step out the door. "Oh! I almost forgot. Silly me… America is in the hospital close to where you fell. Now don't be reckless or you'll die in such an awful matter."

In a matter of seconds, Arthur was gone.

When he had reappeared, the baker hummed a small excited tune to himself, knocking on the door to England's mansion. It was rather nice, but too bland in colour compared to Arthur's. He swung back and forth on his heels, a smile spread over his face so widely it peeled at his skin and jaw structure.

There didn't appear to be an answer, and he tilted his head in confusion. "Oh golly don't tell me he's out!" he whined, smile dropping into nothing more than a pout, his arms crossed and a harsh kick at the door leaving a very noticeable dint at the bottom. "Wait…Oooooh~" He suddenly understood, jumping from the door step and giggling uncontrollably to the point he startle to cackle. "England must have gone to the hospital America is in…" he whispered, skipping along the trails to the known place of the two countries quite a way to travel from his location, but he didn't mind.

A knock came from the other side of the door, and England lifted his head from the American he had been staring at in his sleep. Before he could move, there was another knock, followed by another and a giggle echoed through the cracks between the object and the wall. "Poppet~ Open this door will you? It's locked…" A scowl followed his words, followed by the harsh tugging of the door handle from the other side. England furrowed his brows, taking a step back away from the source of the voice and quickly glanced to America.

"Open the door…open the door!" He yelled, kicking it repeatedly before a large meat knife skewered through it. England gasped, his voice high in tone when he instantly started rummaging through his jacket and found his magic book.

"You there! You better stop your antics or I will curse you for the rest of your life!" England shouted back, doing his best not to interrupt America's sleep in the process. It was hard, with all of the banging from the opposite, but when he finished speaking, the banging and slashing of the knife came to an abrupt stop. The knife had been taken out of the door, and a baby blue-pink eye took its place, staring into the forest green that was England's orbs, panicked and disturbed.

"K-keep out or you'll feel the wrath of a centuries anger of Russian men!" He backed up, and the figure behind the door grinned until he could no longer make it grow.

Then it disappeared. Or…he did. Whatever he was, he left England breathing heavily from growing so tense in that situation he was surprised no one from the hospital had done anything. Had they even noticed that strange man who appeared to look a lot like him? Was he the one who hurt America?

Arthur left the two and walked into the storage room avoiding any of security and took out a very modern phone with a cupcake case over it, pinning in Alfred's number and giggling.

"Alfie! I scared England, I scared him! It was so funny hehe I can barely_ control _myself! Can I cut them up? I want to cut the- ….But- ….Poo. Fine I'll wait for you to heal. Then! Then…we're going to slap them silly~"


End file.
